


The High Wilderness

by Iarinthel



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition, Sunless Skies
Genre: Crossover
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-05
Updated: 2020-02-19
Packaged: 2021-02-27 15:42:03
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,552
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22139524
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Iarinthel/pseuds/Iarinthel
Summary: As if the Breach isn’t enough, now Cullen has to deal with outsiders that don’t speak any language he knows and apparently don’t recognize magic.What else could go wrong?
Comments: 7
Kudos: 16





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So I wrote a Sunless Skies/Dragon Age: Inquisition fanfic just because. I’ll try to keep this as accessible for players of both games, but if there’s anything that confuses you please let me know.
> 
> Otherwise, enjoy the fic!

The Breach in the sky looms over Haven in its sickly green glow, pulsating and growing in an alarmingly fast rate. Demons are spat out intermittently, dropping from the Breach like a meteor breaking through the atmosphere. 

Days earlier, a qunari had been dumped at the site of the Temple of Sacred Ashes, with a hand that glowed as green as the Breach. She sleeps in the Chantry dungeon in Haven, with Solas keeping a close eye on her health and the mark on her hand.

Cullen, on the other hand, is outside with what little remains of the Inquisition forces attempting to keep the demons at bay. Or at the very least away from Haven itself. He’s losing people faster and more often than he likes to admit, though thankfully the demons themselves aren't gaining any ground in the site of the temple. There may be more nearby, just outside the temple itself, but he can only do so much, can only protect so many people.

Before his thoughts can spiral to ever self-deprecating depths, a strange sound echoes in the air. Loud as a foghorn and twice as deep, it serves as something of a warning before something unusual happens.

Namely, a large, metallic serpent passes through a Rift. A serpent gleaming in gold and red being the apparent source of the sound. It crashed into the ruins of the Temple of Sacred Ashes, screeching and sparks flying as it made contact with the ground. Alarmingly, it groans before toppling over its side, with people pouring out like cake batter out of an upended bowl. Many of whom seem confused, some injured, but all of them screaming gibberish to each other even as they attempt to evacuate the serpent.

Mentally shaking himself, Cullen calls out.

“Hello?”

They freeze, in a tableau reminiscent of an Orlesian farce. Thankfully, none of the strangers wear a mask, though that doesn't help him to differentiate between them. Some of them are frozen solid in the act of reaching for their fellows, which lends the scene a certain absurdity. He decides to ignore their reaction to ask.

“Who are you? Where is your leader?”

An individual wearing so many layers of clothes they look almost swamped in fabric turns toward him slowly. Underneath a thick hood bright blue eyes lock onto his, wary and confused. Their height is only a hand shorter than his, and somehow he gets the feeling that they don't entirely know what to make of him. They speak, in a voice too high for a man but deeper than most women he’s ever interacted with, in a foreign tongue that resembles no known language in Thedas. The inflection implies a question however, and their eyes flicker to his shield and sword.

Surprisingly, no demons have followed after the giant golden serpent. So he deems it safe enough to put away his weapons, for the moment. He takes a step toward them, and another when they don't tense as he makes his way towards them. He lowers his voice, speaking in what he hopes to be a calm manner.

“Do you need help?”

The only answer he gets is more incomprehensible gibberish, and a wave of an arm at the more battered people coming out of the great golden serpent. He can only guess at what they meant, with the language barrier between them. 

“You need a healer?”

Naturally, all he gets are more incomprehensible gibberish as an answer. He can't imagine what else they'd answer him in. Ancient Tevene, perhaps?

“Heal-er? Need a heal-er?”

He attempts to show them the common hand gestures used by mages for healing, but no recognition lights their eyes. If anything, they seem even more perplexed now.

“Maker’s Breath. Rylen!”  
“Sir!”  
“Lead the injured to the healers’ tents.”  
“Will they understand that we're trying to help?”  
“…Point taken. Do you have any other suggestions then?”  
“I can bring a few healers here.”  
“Do it, and tell them to be wary. We don’t know how these people got through the Rift, but there may be a chance that they’ve brought uninvited guests with them.”  
“At once.”

~*~

Oddly, the arrival of the strange people in their giant serpent seems to have changed the Rift. The colour changed from pale green to dark blue, with white pinpricks blinking away. It also came with a chilling wind, that howls like a pack of wolves. No more snow, thankfully, but the winds bite harshly all the same.

It specifically changed the Rift on the ruins of the Temple of Sacred Ashes, though he wouldn’t have been able to ascertain as to whether this change has affected other Rifts or not. Seeing as he and his people are stuck guarding the ruins, he could spare no one to check other Rifts to see whether or not they had changed. He’ll just have to hope that this new occurrence won’t result in yet another cataclysmic disaster.

He’s already got his hands full with this one.


	2. Chapter 2

Thankfully, Rylen came back with a small group of healers along with some assistants and supplies. He directed them towards the small camp that the outsiders had been put in. The outsiders were wary of the healers but still far from tense like one would expect. They allowed the healers to do their work, surprise clear in their body language when magic manifested on their hands and healed their wounds. Gibberish shouts and cries filled the air as they react like they’ve never seen magic before. Or maybe they’d never seen healing magic before? 

He can only shake his head incredulously at the thought before turning towards the blue Rift, watching the blinking lights. Nothing else so far has come through, but in a situation like this lowering his guard is dangerous. Rylen walked up beside him.

“Commander?”  
“Yes?”  
“What will we do with these people?”  
“Help them as best we can, then send them away. We barely have the resources needed to keep everyone in the army and Haven well fed and in good health as it is, we can’t afford to waste what little resources we do have.”  
“Send them where, exactly?”

Cullen could only shake his head, seeing as the only way they can send them back is the blue Rift which is shrinking incrementally right in front of him. Rylen sees it as well, but says nothing. 

The blue Rift may not exist in a few hours, so if they want to send people through they’ll have to find a way to keep it open somehow. Or heal them as fast as they can, which is unlikely since there’s at least 20 people that needs looking after, including the one swamped in fabric. Who is belligerently keeping a close eye on the healers as they work, but not impeding them so Cullen leaves them be.

“Wherever this thing leads to, I suppose.”  
“Is that wise?”  
“No, but do we have any other option?”  
“I suppose not, but do we even know where that goes? What if it’s dangerous?”  
“Is there anywhere safe we could send them right now? Rifts are opening as far as the eye can see, and we have no way of sealing or dealing with them.”  
“Couldn’t we just—“  
“Commander!”

They both turned to see Cassandra, Varric, Solas and the qunari prisoner coming towards them. Despite splatters of green gunk on their clothes they seem less tired than the army, though they’re somewhat confused as to why no one is fighting at the moment. Solas in particular is rather intently staring at the metal serpent only a few meters away from the Rift for some reason.

“What happened? Who are these people?”  
“They came out of that Rift, in that metal serpent over there. I wasn’t able to gather any information about them other than the fact that they don’t speak any language I know.”  
“Uh...why is that Rift blue?”  
“It changed after the serpent came through. I would be careful with it, wherever it leads is even colder than the Frostbacks.”

Solas decides to walk up to the blue Rift, seemingly contemplating the changes made. He even goes so far as to tap it with his staff. A ripple appears and fades just as quickly. Otherwise, it doesn’t change or react.

“Is it...closing on its own?”  
“Yes, and if we don’t find a way to keep it open these people are stuck here.”  
“I don’t think the Mark is made to keep a Rift open.”  
“This Rift is unique in more than one way, it is possible that the Mark won’t affect it at all.”  
“Well, there’s only one way to find out.”

With all the bravado of an Antivan sword dancer, the prisoner walks up to the Rift and holding her green left hand towards it. Unsurprisingly, nothing happens.

“Huh.”  
“So it doesn’t work on blue Rifts. Good to know.”  
“We cannot waste time. The Breach is still the largest and most immediate threat.”  
“You’re right. We’ll keep watch here, you three go ahead.”  
“Be careful Commander.”  
“You as well, Cassandra.”

Cullen watched as the three motley group go further into the ruins, backs tense with...fear perhaps? Or possibly grim determination to see the situation through, whatever that may take.

May the Maker watch over them.


End file.
